


Burning, Breaking, Soothing

by mangsin



Series: 5+1 TaeJongHyuk [2]
Category: Dokgo Rewind - Fandom
Genre: 5+1 Things, Aftermath of Violence, And a good cry, Conversations, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Aid, Grief, Guilt, Hugs, Hyuk is too strong all of the time, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kang Hyuk Needs A Hug, M/M, Storms, Tea, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, don't they all, he needs a break, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21853123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangsin/pseuds/mangsin
Summary: Jongil usually tries to stay out of fights, but now there's something under his skin, crawling and scorching, and he needs to let it loose.So, he looks for the fighter from before.aka: 5 Times Jongil Wanted to Fight Hyuk, and 1 Time He Wanted Something Else
Relationships: Kang Hyuk/Kim Jongil
Series: 5+1 TaeJongHyuk [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573348
Kudos: 8





	Burning, Breaking, Soothing

1

Jongil had always considered himself a level-headed person. He preferred to stay out of the gang activity in the schools, only stepping in when his friend was too badly injured.

He still felt guilty for that.

When he saw those idiots bullying the deaf kid, it made him remember his middle school. Jongil learned to fight for a reason – his friend had been a popular target for the upperclassmen. Another reason why he avoided gang activity. Becoming what he learned to fight wasn’t exactly appealing.

So when he saw the deaf kid getting hurt, he did what he did best.

Apparently he wasn’t as level-headed as he thought.

The fight had been easy. None of the students really _knew_ how to fight, they just swung their fists around and hoped they’d hit something. Jongil knew he would win against them. But Myung Jinhwan?

A snake. Cunning. Dangerous. And above all, manipulative.

Now Jongil was expelled from Gicheon, and the fire in his gut was eating him alive.

In his mindless agitation, he remembered the fighter. The one that matched his own capabilities, the _challenge_ , and something in him settled.

Jongil left to find him immediately.

Arriving there, he found it empty, and upon waiting, the only one to show was a Dang Young student in a wrestlers’ track suit. He was tall, muscled. Not the fighter Jongil had come for, but good enough, and Jongil couldn’t wait anymore.

The wrestler tried to avoid a confrontation, saying he couldn’t fight because of his sport. Jongil didn’t listen, gave only an apology. He was buzzing, scorching. He needed _something_. Anything to make it stop.

He angered the wrestler enough to make him push back. Then the fighter appeared, joined the conflict, and the itching turned from rage to anticipation.

It got cut short. The girl laughed, the other two boys that the fighter had shown up with separated them. The wrestler – Taejin, as they all called him – gave the fighter a paper and left with the girl, Hyunsun.

A little later, the blond and the parasite stalled.

“Are you sure, Hyuk?” The blond squinted at Jongil. “I don’t like him.”

Hyuk, the fighter, stared blankly at the blond. “It’s fine. Go home.”

The parasite glared at Jongil one last time and left with an arm slung over the blond’s shoulder.

Jongil turned to find Hyuk studying him, and the crawling under his skin returned with full force. His fingernails dug into the palms of his hands.

“What?” he bit out.

A small nod was the only response, and Hyuk went to sit down on the couch. Grabbing a water bottle from somewhere, he held it out to Jongil in a silent invitation.

He had to admit, he was curious.

Taking the water bottle, Jongil sat in one of the chairs and twisted the cap off. Hyuk waited for him to take a sip before speaking.

“You burn, don’t you?”

Jongil nearly choked on the water trickling down his throat, and as he tried to recover, Hyuk leaned back.

“It shows. You should learn how to hide it. Opponents that know what they’re doing will take advantage of it,” the taller boy said quietly.

“What’s it to you?”

Hyuk quirked an eyebrow. “You want to take on Gicheon, right? You were a student there. You know the hierarchy better than I do, but even I know that the fighters they have will exploit anything they can.”

“Yes, I know,” Jongil snapped. “I know what they can do, I’ve seen it firsthand.”

The tension bled out of his body as Hyuk leaned forward.

“Tell me,” he offered.

So Jongil did. He told Hyuk about the beatings, the tests, the money stolen. About how he had tried to avoid it, about his friend that helped him hide his capabilities, about the deaf kid he had protected and that snake, Myung Jinhwan.

Hyuk listened intently, never interrupting once.

Slumping back in his seat, finished ranting, Jongil watched Hyuk mull over what he’d been told.

“You’re very admirable.”

Well. That hadn’t been the response Jongil was expecting.

“You had a lot going against you,” Hyuk continued, “but you did everything you could to avoid compromising your beliefs. And now that you can’t avoid this, you’re fighting against it. Not many would do what you’ve done, what you’re doing.”

Jongil avoided the taller boy’s eyes, now burning for a different reason. “Shut up. It’s not as impressive as you make it sound.”

He could’ve been wrong, but he thought he saw a faint smile flicker across Hyuk’s lips. “Why did you come here, Jongil?” Hyuk questioned.

With a blink of surprise, Jongil finally met Hyuk’s gaze.

“I…” Jongil cocked his head and frowned. “I came here looking for you. You were the first person in a long time to match my ability, so I thought that maybe fighting you again could help stop the burning.”

Hyuk’s attention didn’t waver. “And now?”

A moment of silence passed, Hyuk patiently waiting as Jongil considered the question. It hit Jongil that if he said he still wanted to fight, then the other boy wouldn’t hesitate to give him what he wanted. But…

“I’m... I’m fine.” Jongil stared at Hyuk, dumbfounded. “How did- I’m not burning anymore. We didn’t even fight, how…?”

Hyuk nodded, standing and offering his hand. “There are other ways.”

Accepting Hyuk’s hand, Jongil stood, but didn’t let go.

“You speak from experience,” he observed.

The corner of Hyuk’s mouth twitched. “I do. But I’m not the best example.”

Their hands dropped, and Hyuk walked past Jongil. Jongil listened to his footsteps stop.

“Jongil.”

At the sound of his name, Jongil turned to find Hyuk’s attentive eyes on him once again.

“You’re welcome here,” Hyuk said. “Anytime, for any reason.”

Jongil blinked, and Hyuk disappeared around the corner.

That night, Jongil returned to his empty house. But for the first time in a while, he didn’t feel alone.

• • •

2

When they returned from speaking with Lee Dongjae, Jongil was buzzing again. Not with the fire, but with excitement.

It was finally happening.

Jongil bounced on his heels. “Hyuk.”

One word was all it took, and Hyuk knew what Jongil needed. “Water first. Dongjae’s people might not have been a challenge, but they were still exercise.”

Catching the bottle thrown at him, Jongil opened it and took a few sips. Hyuk was looking at him again, assessing.

“It’s not the fire this time, is it?” Hyuk asked. It was more of a statement than a question – like Jongil said, somehow the taller boy just _knew_.

“Nah.” Jongil took another drink. “Just feeling restless.”

Hyuk nodded, setting his own water on the table. “You want to fight.”

The statement caught him off guard. Wasn’t that the point? “Yeah…?” Jongil let the question trail off.

“Wanting to fight doesn’t always mean wanting to win.” Sometimes, knowing Hyuk was watching comforted Jongil. Other times, like now, made him feel too exposed. Like the other boy was peeling back his skin, climbing over his walls. “Which is it?”

Jongil’s water bottle dangled from his fingertips. Which did he want?

It didn’t take him long to answer.

“I want to win,” Jongil said decisively. “The fight itself is enticing, but I don’t want anyone thinking they can start shit like this again.”

Seemingly satisfied, Hyuk gave a short nod and settled into fighting stance.

Jongil grinned.

• • •

3

Walking back to the hideout after Myung Jinhwan set Jongil’s nerves on edge. The fire was back, along with something black and boiling.

He stalked over to the table, where Jaewook and Bonhwan laughed about something and Hyuk watched.

Hyuk saw him approach and _knew_.

“Jaewook. Bonhwan,” his quiet voice commanded the pair’s attention. “Go home.”

Jongil didn’t hear the pair begin to protest, didn’t register them leave when they saw him. Buzzing filled his senses, his thoughts a constant stream of _Hyuk, Hyuk, Hyuk_. _Hyuk will fix me, Hyuk will make the burning stop_. _Hyuk_ knows, _Hyuk sees_.

A firm hand took Jongil by the arm, and he lashed out, fingers curling in the front of a shirt.

“Jongil.” Hyuk’s voice, calm and clear. “Sit down.”

His hold on the shirt loosened, and he let himself be pushed into a seat. He was vaguely aware of his body’s trembling, the energy eating at him and threatening to tear him apart.

Something stung one of the cuts on Jongil’s face. He seized the wrist of the hand next to his head, grip tightening enough to bruise.

“Jongil, breathe.”

The grasp he had on Hyuk’s wrist started to feel less like a threat and more like a lifeline.

Another hand took his own, pulled it forward and pressed it against something warm.

“Breathe.”

The warmth under his palm rose and fell, steady.

“Just breathe.”

Jongil’s body responded to the order without him giving it permission to. Cold air stung his throat and he gasped, gulping it down.

“Ease up a little, you’re going to pass out. Breathe _with_ me this time.”

So that’s what the warmth was. Hyuk’s chest expanded. Held. Contracted. Jongil did his best to copy it, fighting off the fuzzy black edges in his vision.

“Good. Again.”

Jongil obeyed, and something in him snapped into place.

Jerking back, Jongil wrenched his hand away from Hyuk in favor of holding the chair’s arm in a white-knuckled grip. Hyuk’s hand fell, laying on his lap.

“Jongil.” Jongil’s wide eyes flew up to meet Hyuk’s cooling ones. “Let go.”

Ah.

“Sorry,” Jongil muttered, releasing Hyuk’s wrist. The sleeve covered where he had grabbed, leaving him to wonder whether or not he had actually bruised it.

Hyuk simply nodded and returned to dabbing on Jongil’s cut with a small, neatly folded white cloth. Which, Jongil realized, came from a plastic container sitting open on the table. A bottle stood next to the container, label reading ‘alcohol’.

A first aid kit. Smart.

The next few minutes went by in silence as Hyuk tended to Jongil’s wounds. Jongil fidgeted. Opened his mouth.

“No.”

His mouth shut with a clack. “You don’t even know what-”

“I’m not fighting you like this.”

Jongil glared, simmering. “Stop interrupting me,” he growled.

The other’s response was a raised eyebrow. “Was I wrong in assuming that’s what you would ask?”

“No, but…” Jongil’s nails bit into his palms. “Interrupting me was unnecessary.”

Pausing, Hyuk studied Jongil for a moment. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“Um.” Jongil was taken aback. “Yeah. Okay.”

Silence fell over them again, and Jongil watched Hyuk rummage through the first aid kit for bandages. He ripped a few open, plastering them on one of Jongil’s cuts.

“This was Myung.”

Hyuk’s voice was soft, but held something dangerous. Jongil saw a river in his mind’s eye, cool and smooth on the surface with an undercurrent that would drown an unsuspecting victim in a heartbeat.

“Yeah. I lost.”

The tense set of Hyuk’s shoulders piqued Jongil’s curiosity, and for once, he wasn’t the one avoiding eye contact.

Hyuk didn’t speak again for the rest of their medical session. His hands lingered over Jongil’s after putting the last bandage on.

Watching Hyuk chew on his bottom lip was a strange experience. Never had Jongil seen the taller boy hesitate on anything.

“Tomorrow,” Hyuk finally said. “Come back tomorrow and we’ll see what we can figure out.”

With that, Hyuk closed the first aid kit and stood. He left Jongil floundering for a response, or for an explanation.

It wasn’t until Jongil was walking home that he realized the bubbling black pit in his stomach was gone.

• • •

4

Taejin left with a laugh and a wave. Jongil had to admit, knowing the wrestler was with them on the attack gave him some comfort. He didn’t even mind the new nickname, not that he’d ever admit it.

Collapsing on the couch, Jongil stretched and groaned. “Damn, that drop actually hurt.”

“Mm.” Hyuk obviously wasn’t hearing a word Jongil said. Not that Jongil minded. He took the opportunity to study the other boy. Hyuk’s eyes held a different sort of intensity to them when he was analyzing something, and Jongil wasn’t going to lie – it was stunning.

He’d known about his attraction to Hyuk for a while, never one to deny his feelings. Never one to run away from them, either, Jongil planned on telling Hyuk soon. There just hadn’t been a good time to do so yet.

Now was tempting, but he didn’t want to distract any of them from the upcoming battle.

So he watched.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Hyuk’s soft voice startled Jongil out of his thoughts. “Ah, no. Sorry. I just spaced out for a second.”

“Nervous?” Hyuk asked. His eyes told Jongil that he knew. Hyuk always knew.

Tilting his head, Jongil thought. Was he nervous?

“Not really. Maybe a little, but not the scared kind of nervous,” he decided.

Hyuk nodded, but gave no other reply. A moment passed, and Jongil began to feel restless in the silence.

“Do you want to practice?” Hyuk asked right as Jongil was about to ask. Jongil smiled sheepishly.

“How did you know?”

The amusement hidden in Hyuk’s eyes calmed Jongil’s gut and spread warmth in his chest.

“You’re practically vibrating, Jongil.” Hyuk stood. “It’d be hard to _not_ notice.”

Jongil’s smile widened. “Then let’s practice.”

• • •

5

Rounding the corner, Jongil raised an eyebrow at Hyuk, pointing over his shoulder. “What’s up with Taejin?”

Hyuk shrugged, getting up from the floor. Why and how did he get there?

“He said he needed to get… something.” Hyuk waved a hand, dusting off his clothes. “He was a bit vague about what.”

The dirt on Hyuk’s clothes stayed, stubbornly clinging to the back of his jacket. Jongil grimaced. “You- hold on.”

Hyuk let Jongil turn him around, much to his surprise. He didn’t exactly seem like the type to allow manhandling of any kind. Jongil got to work, brushing the dirt off of Hyuk’s leather jacket the best he could.

“Are you ready to fight Myung?” Hyuk asked.

Once Jongil had registered Hyuk’s question, he couldn’t resist the grin that spread across his face as Hyuk turned back around

“No. I’m ready to win.”

Hyuk’s small smile at the reference gave Jongil some hope.

He’d tell Hyuk. Today. It didn’t matter if his feelings were returned or not, he’d tell Hyuk how he felt.

He just had to win.

• • •

+1

It had been a week.

After the final fight, Hyuk had disappeared, cell phone at his ear and an urgency in his sprint that couldn’t have come from anything good. And the look on his face when he had answered that call…

Jongil was worried.

He’d tried calling the other boy, of course. They all had, none of them with any success. Everything went straight to voicemail; their texts were either left unseen or left on read. Surprisingly – and concerningly – no one knew where Hyuk lived, either.

He just… disappeared.

Until now.

Of all times Jongil imagined finally finding Hyuk, he’d never considered Hyuk coming to find him. But here they were, looking at each other through Jongil’s front door as a storm raged above the roof.

Wrenching the door open, Jongil grabbed Hyuk’s arm and dragged him inside.

“Why the hell are you walking around in rain like this?” he grumbled. “You’re not even dressed properly; you’re going to catch a cold.”

Hyuk didn’t reply, just stared sightlessly at the wall. Jongil frowned.

“Hyuk.” No response. “ _Hyuk_.”

The taller boy jerked away from Jongil’s outstretched arm. They stood there for a moment, Jongil searching Hyuk’s face.

He’d never seen fear there before.

A clap of thunder startled them both out of their stand-off. Jongil dropped his arm, not missing the way Hyuk relaxed ever-so-slightly.

“Take off your jacket and shoes,” Jongil said. “I’ll get you some tea.”

Walking out of the kitchen a little later with two steaming mugs of tea, Jongil found Hyuk standing uncertainly in the living room.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to sit?”

Hyuk carefully wrapped his hands around the mug Jongil offered him. Their fingers brushed, and Jongil suppressed a shiver. The other boy’s hands were like ice.

“Am I… am I intruding?” he asked quietly. “Your parents, siblings? Will they mind if I’m here?”

Jongil sat down, taking a sip of his tea. “I’m an only child. My parents are abroad.”

“Oh.” Still standing, Hyuk, fiddled with the mug. “Are you sure I’m not bothering you? I can lea-”

“Hyuk. Sit down.”

The immediate obedience was surprising, to say the least, but at least Hyuk wasn’t running away.

They sat in silence, Jongil drinking his tea and Hyuk opting to stare into his own instead of actually drinking it.

Sighing, Jongil set his mug on the coffee table. “What’s going on, Hyuk? We beat Gicheon, and you disappeared. You know how much we tried to contact you. I know you do, you left us on read often enough.”

It was strange, being in control of a conversation with Hyuk. Even stranger to see him shrink into himself.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Hyuk mumbled. “I just couldn’t- I didn’t want to…”

Jongil realized with alarm that Hyuk’s hands were trembling. He darted forward, laying a gentle hand on Hyuk’s arm and taking the mug from his hands to put it on the coffee table, next to his own mug.

“Hyuk,” Jongil sat next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “we all know that you wouldn’t have avoided us if it wasn’t important. No one’s angry. We’re just worried.”

Hyuk didn’t answer, staring at his empty hands.

Steeling himself, Jongil moved his hand from Hyuk’s shoulder to the back of Hyuk’s neck, massaging the tense muscle there. “Hyuk. What happened?”

Silence fell over them. Jongil knew Hyuk wouldn’t stay quiet for long, so he waited patiently.

“…My hyung.”

Jongil’s brow furrowed. “Your hyung?”

“My… my twin. My hyung, he- he’s dead.”

A cold lump solidified in Jongil’s gut as Hyuk looked up at him.

“It was my fault,” Hyuk whispered, eyes hollow. “Sungkyu, he said he’d remember my face. He sent people to hurt me, but they found my hyung instead and they thought he was me and they beat him to death and _I didn’t warn him_.”

With those last words, the dam broke, and Jongil found himself wrapping a crying Hyuk in his arms.

Mind racing a mile a minute, Jongil tried desperately to connect the dots. Was that what the phone call had been? Someone calling Hyuk to tell him that his hyung had died? Jongil’s heart sank as it dawned on him: Hyuk’s brother had died on Hyuk’s birthday, hadn’t he? The day they’d beaten Gicheon, Hyuk had left after blowing out his birthday candles.

Hyuk clung to Jongil’s shirt, sobs racking his body without stopping, and Jongil’s eyes widened as the situation finally hit him. He had no idea what he was doing. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be – _Jongil_ was supposed to be the one falling apart. He didn’t know how to fix Hyuk like Hyuk fixed him.

“I couldn’t save him,” Hyuk choked. “I couldn’t save him.”

Ah. There was that.

Collecting his thoughts, Jongil rubbed Hyuk’s back in what he hoped was a soothing way. “Hyuk… I know you won’t believe me, but this isn’t your fault. Listen to me,” Jongil commanded, guiding Hyuk’s head upwards. He cupped the other boy’s face in both hands, swiping his thumbs across Hyuk’s cheeks to wipe away the streams of tears.

“This is not your fault,” he stressed. “It may seem like it, but the first time you met that bastard, you were rescuing Kyusoon and Hyunsun. You were helping, you were saving your friends from a bad person. What would’ve happened had you not been there?”

Hyuk’s crying, which had been calming while Jongil spoke, turned into hiccups. “I- I don’t-”

“Think about it. Kyusoon would’ve died thinking that Hyunsun was going to follow, and she might have, or something worse might’ve happened. But because you were there, Kyusoon – although he did die, which was _also_ not your fault – knew Hyunsun would be safe. And she is, she’s living happily in the U.S. with her father. Because of you.

“With Gicheon, you weren’t just helping your friends. You may have started to avenge Kyusoon, but you helped countless strangers by destroying the alliance. Your hyung’s death wasn’t your fault, Hyuk. Sending people after you was the bastard’s decision, and it’s not your fault that you were twins.”

Hyuk avoided his eyes, so Jongil bumped their foreheads together. Just briefly, but enough to get Hyuk’s attention. “Hey. Do you believe me, Hyuk? Do you trust me when I promise you it wasn’t your fault?”

“I… I trust you, Jongil, but…” Hyuk faltered and his eyes dropped again. “If it’s not my fault, why does she hate me so much?”

She?

A beat of silence passed, and Hyuk abruptly pulled away. Jongil’s immediate reply of “wait” died on his lips when he saw the look in Hyuk’s eyes.

He looked terrified.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” Hyuk whispered. “I didn’t mean to- forget I said that.”

Jongil frowned. “Hyuk, who are you talking about? Who’s ‘she’?”

Standing without warning, Hyuk made a beeline for the door. Jongil scrambled to catch up with him, reaching the mud room to find Hyuk tugging on his jacket, already halfway out the door.

“Wait!” Jongil caught Hyuk’s sleeve. “Please don’t go. Don’t shut us out.”

Half-in and half-out of the blustering rain, Hyuk hesitated. Jongil thought that he would just pull away, vanish into the storm, but his eyes saddened.

“Promise me you’ll forget what I said.”

Jongil made a spilt-second decision.

“No,” he said honestly. “I won’t be able to forget. I promise not to bring it up again. I won’t tell anyone about it, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you if you want. But I won’t forget.”

Hyuk’s eyes searched his face, and he slowly reached forward to cover the hand on his wrist.

“I’ll be at our place tomorrow.”

Blinking in surprise, Jongil didn’t notice Hyuk slipping out of his grasp until the taller boy’s silhouette faded into the storm. He closed the door mechanically, walking back to the couch and sitting down to stare at the two mugs on the table.

It made a depressing sort of sense, now. Why Hyuk ignored their efforts to contact him. He had so much on his plate, and although ‘lost’ wasn’t a word generally used to describe the other, it was probably how Hyuk had been feeling.

Jongil felt a familiar buzzing in the edges of his mind and tamped it down. Not yet, but… maybe it was time for him to meet the Bastard, as Taejin had so eloquently labelled the former Dang Young elite.

He sighed and flopped back against the couch. He didn’t want to burden Hyuk any further.

Telling Hyuk would have to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Um... Surprise?
> 
> So, funny story. Turns out that when I said I have no self-control, it meant that my dumb ADHD ass will either not write anything for a week OR write an entire 3800+ word oneshot in a single day.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this unedited mess.


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